


Rumor Has It

by Cantatrice18



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Engagement, F/M, Family Drama, Misunderstandings, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: At a dinner with her parents, Lydia comes face to face with unpleasant rumors about herself and her Thane. The truth leaves her parents even more shocked.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lydia, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lydia
Kudos: 25





	Rumor Has It

The fire blazed warm against the front of Lydia’s calves, making her keenly aware of her lack of armor. She balanced the wooden spoon against the side of her carved bowl, lowering the dish to rest on one knee. Across from her, her father sat back with a sigh. “So,” he said gruffly.

“So . . .?” Lydia repeated, when he made no effort to go on.

“Housecarl to the city’s newest Thane,” her father continued. “Quite the honor.”

There was something off about his tone, and Lydia looked to her mother for help deciphering it. The small, mousy woman seemed unwilling to meet her daughter’s eyes, but blushed beneath Lydia’s stare. “We’re pleased to hear of your good fortune.”

Fortune was an odd way of putting it. Lydia had worked hard to prove herself worthy of the promotion. It had not fallen into her lap by the grace of the Gods. She felt herself begin to bristle and took a deep breath to calm herself. Conversations with her parents were always like this, she recalled. No need to take offense. 

Her father tapped the toe of his leather boot impatiently. “Such an honor, yes, to serve a Thane?” he said, placing a bit too much emphasis on the word serve. 

Lydia nodded carefully. “I am grateful for my position, and eager to help my master in any way I can.”

“Any way?” her mother said quickly.

Lydia scowled. “I don’t understand what you’re suggesting.”

“Oh, don’t you now?” said her father darkly. “Playing the innocent? Well, I’ll tell it to you plain. We’ve heard the rumors.”

A chill ran down Lydia’s spine, dampening the warmth of the hearth, “What rumors would those be?” she queried, her voice dangerously polite.

“About the Thane—” her mother began

“—About you,” her father interrupted. “They say you serve your master a bit too well, particularly after dark.”

White-hot rage flashed through Lydia’s chest. It took all her strength of will to remember herself and keep from drawing her dagger. “How dare you?” she hissed. “My own family, accusing me of, of,” she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “You think me so lacking in honor as to bed the master I serve? Have you no faith in how you yourselves raised me?”

“We knew it wouldn’t have been your idea, love,” Lydia’s mother said placatingly. “But men, particularly foreign men, have a way of twisting a girl’s mind.”

“I am not a naïve child, mother,” Lydia snapped. 

“No, more’s the pity, or I’d have given you a good beating for this,” her father growled. “Not just the looseness, but the falsehoods as well.”

“You have now named me as a liar as well as a whore, Father,” Lydia spat. “Care to tell me what proof you have of either?”

To her surprise, her father gestured to his wife for an explanation. Lydia’s mother cleared her throat. “It started with the noises, at night,” she said, cheekbones violently pink. “The guards outside could even hear them. You know the sort I mean.” 

Lydia said nothing, her face impassive. “Noises. And?”

“The jewels,” Lydia’s father continued accusingly. “Belethor reports your precious Thane spending hundreds of septims on jewels in the last months, including a certain emerald necklace.” He glared at Lydia’s chest, where a circular pendant glimmered green beneath the open collar of her tunic. “Lover’s tokens,” he added disgustedly.

Lydia resisted the urge to finger the pendant, keeping her arms resolutely at her sides. “Anything else?”

“Just rumors,” her mother said apologetically. “A man and a woman, alone on the road.”

“And his race aren’t known for their morals,” grunted her father.

This was too much, at last, for Lydia to bear. She leapt to her feet, half-drawing her dagger. Her father did the same, his eyes alight with rage. “No, stop it both of you, please!” her mother pleaded.

Lydia ignored her and stood frozen in place, breathing hard. The moment stretched on and on until finally she broke. Sheathing her dagger, she sat once more. She waited until her father had done the same before speaking. “I would rather be a Breton’s whore than a Nord of Whiterun, after what you’ve told me,” she recited icily. “My Thane may be foreign, but he has treated me with nothing but honor and respect from the moment we met. Not once has he laid a hand on me during our time on the road. When it comes to the sounds from our home,” she looked sidelong at her mother, “my Lord suffers from nightmares. You ought to understand that, at least. I believe Grandfather suffered from the same condition, did he not?”

Her mother nodded twice. Lydia turned back to face her father, one hand going to the pendant. “As for the jewelry, it is part of the reason I asked to meet with you today. It is true that my Thane has given me jewels, but it is not out of gratitude or—” she blanched, “—payment for services rendered. The fact is simply this. My Thane wishes to marry me.”

Her words had the effect of a dragon’s shout upon her parents. Her mother looked so stunned she might have been knocked over with a feather. Lydia’s father, meanwhile, began to sputter. 

“Marry—with you—Breton—”

“Thane of Whiterun,” Lydia reminded him. “Dragonborn, chosen of the Gods.”

“But why you?” her mother asked weakly. “You’re nothing but a servant to him, surely.”

Lydia struggled to contain an eyeroll. “So I’m good enough to bed out of wedlock, but not to marry?” she asked sardonically. “Thanks ever so much, Mother.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” her mother persisted. “Why marry you, when he has all of Skyrim at his feet.”

“Because he loves me,” Lydia replied staunchly. “Or so he says,” she added, glancing away. The truth was that she could scarcely believe the situation herself. 

Her mother noticed her glance and stood, crossing to sit beside her daughter on the wooden bench. “And you?” she asked softly. “Do you love him back?”

“I—” Lydia stared into the fire. “I think I do, yes,” she managed, her voice surprisingly weak. “It’s all been so fast. But he’s a good man, perhaps even a great one. And he’s kind to me, and generous. He isn’t handsome in the Nord way, but I’m drawn to him.” She could feel herself blushing scarlet. “I care for him deeply. Whether that’s love, well,” she tried to shrug, “we’ll see.”

There was a long silence. Then her father spoke, his voice raspy and low. “I’m . . . pleased for you, girl.” When she looked up at him, he averted his eyes. “Right pleased for you,” he repeated. “And I’m sorry for before. What we’d heard—well, it made us fearful.”

“Gossip doesn’t scare me, Father,” Lydia told him softly. “So long as those I love trust me, I don’t give a damn about anyone else.”

There didn’t seem to be much more to say after that. Lydia rose and gathered her things, kissing both her parents on the cheeks and choosing to ignore the fact that her father’s eyes were suspiciously wet. She made her way back through the city to Breezehome, where she let herself in. The hearthfire was embers by now, its warmth faded to a dim glow. Lydia crept upstairs and into her own bedroom, stripping off her tunic and breeches and changing into a nightgown that reached her knees. As she crawled into bed, she wondered about the man in the room next door. What would it be like, to have so few morals that she could bed him freely? Would he have asked her to marry him if she’d given in to his advances? But no, he hadn’t made advances. He was too honorable for that. Shaking her head, she tried to drift off to sleep. Morning would come, and with it the gossip of the townsfolk. She trusted her parents to head off the rumors and do their best to spread word of the truth. It was in their best interest, after all. Like it or not, the whole of Whiterun would know of the engagement by nightfall. Lydia decided she didn’t care. So long as her Thane loved her, the world could say what it liked.


End file.
